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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26241100">nails.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/borahaewu/pseuds/borahaewu'>borahaewu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Feels, Anxiety Attacks, Blood and Injury, Character Study, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lee Minho | Lee Know-centric, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationships, Self-Harm, This is just a rant, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, im projecting on minho yikes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:34:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26241100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/borahaewu/pseuds/borahaewu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>he just wanted to feel grounded.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>nails.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Aren’t they distracting?”</p><p>Minho stops writing his chemistry notes for a while to look up at Felix. He stares at him for a while with a blank look on his face before going back to what he was doing initially.</p><p>“What is?” Minho asks with a sigh.</p><p>Felix pouts before tapping Minho’s fingers with the back of his pen, “your nails,” Minho stops writing “Aren’t they distracting?”</p><p>Minho blinks rapidly before looking down at his nails. They’re pretty long—he wriggles his fingers—untidy even. Felix isn’t wrong his nails are quite distracting.</p><p>Minho shrugs and watches as Felix realizes their teacher was already way ahead from where he had last stopped writing his notes, “not really but I like them this way I guess.”</p><p><em>Lies. He doesn’t</em>.</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>Minho stares at the crescent-shaped bruises on his palms for a second before pushing his notes towards Felix, “yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
For as long as Minho can remember pressure or stress could never really sit easily with him. It weighs him down and makes him want to drag his feet along the floors, which he wishes could swallow him whole.</p><p>Especially now.</p><p>Especially right now since his math teacher was lecturing him about his grades in-front of his whole class.</p><p>She's not quiet about it either. Her voice is screeching against his ears like squeaky tires and rusted metal and all he wants to do is scream back. He watches her teeth grind in frustration as she yells at him.</p><p>The look in her eyes makes his blood cold and his headlight. The shivers going down his spine as she points to something written wrong in his test makes him feel nauseous. </p><p>He quickly clenches and unclenches his right fist making sure to dig his nails deep enough to numb the persistent buzzing in his mind but not so much as to make him bleed.</p><p>
  <em>They’re watching you-</em>
</p><p>He clenches his fist tighter, tighter and <em>tighter</em> and at this point, he could feel each of his nails slowly dig into his already bruised and rough palms. His breaths were coming up short and his ears were pulsing as his heartbeat unsteadily in his chest. </p><p>He felt like he was going to die. Everyone was looking at him and he just wants to get out. He just wants to get out, get out, <em>get out—</em>just go out and leave. He was so uncomfortable why did no one see how <em>uncomfortable</em> he was and stop staring at him?</p><p>
  <em>She’s humiliating you, can’t you do any better?</em>
</p><p>He lets out a shaky breath as a fuzzy ache builds up between his eyes. He starts to tap his leg and his jaw tightens, his teeth grinding against each other as his throat feels like sandpaper.</p><p>He wants to <em>get out.</em></p><p>The nails on his left hand start to itch with a desire to draw those familiar red welts on his right arm.</p><p>‘<em>Why is she taking so long?’</em> He slowly starts to dig his thumbnail across his wrist.<em> ‘Shut up, shut up shut up shut up-‘</em></p><p>“I want these assignments done by next Monday, Lee Minho.” He unclenches his right hand and winces as a painful ache spreads throughout his palm. The crescents throb as he straightens his hand under the table.</p><p>“Did you hear me Lee Minho?”</p><p>He stills his foot and gently thumbs the red welts on his right arm. He could still feel his heart beating uncomfortably in his chest like it didn't belong in there. </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>He sits back down and traces his nails with his thumb. They weren’t as sharp anymore.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
The silver nail cutter glistens brightly under his bathroom lights. Minho stares at it and quickly clenches his fist again, a small wince passing his lips has a nail dug into an older indent.</p><p>He wants to cut his nails. He hates how sensitive his nails get after scratching his arms for too long, he hates not being able to play the piano anymore since his nails prevent him from moving around the keys freely.</p><p>They make uncomfortable clicks resound and vibrate below his fingers while he plays and it makes him want to rip his fingers apart or pull his nails out.</p><p>But he needs them. He needs his nails to ground him, to stop that incessant buzzing between his eyes. It reminds him to breathe or even worse, to just live.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jisung's parents renovated their basement to an amateur styled studio to help him with producing music so Minho, being a good friend and neighbour, was helping Jisung move his equipment downstairs. </p><p>Suddenly, a few boxes shift awkwardly in his grip making him lose his footing and he tries to balance them while walking down the stairs. </p><p>Unfortunately or fortunately, due to his cat-like reflexes, he’s quick enough to catch them before they could tumble to their death and end up destroying equipment worth thousands but the act ends up with him breaking two nails and gaining a bruise on his wrist.</p><p>The bruise is the least of his concerns.</p><p>Minho quickly stumbles down the stairs to place the boxes on the floor so he could take a look at the damage done but his hands are quickly grabbed by Jisung’s gentle yet strong grip.</p><p>Jisung cries out with a sympathetic wince as he looks at the injuries “Hyung! Oh <em>god</em>, this looks painful.”</p><p>Minho watches the blood from his broken fingernails spread around Jisung’s palm and the newly floored basement. He cringes.</p><p>“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks.” Minho says gently with honesty to help the worry bubbling under Jisung’s ribs.</p><p>“Are you sure?—“ he gently rubs his knuckles, “—let me treat them. It’ll make me feel better as well since you got it trying to help me.”</p><p>Minho purses his lip with uncertainty but as Jisung looks at him with those pleading eyes he just can’t say no. “Sure.”</p><p>Jisung quickly runs upstairs to fetch the first aid kit and Minho looks at his hand. The broken nails are almost hanging off uncomfortably with only just tiny bits of it hanging onto their bare and bleeding nail beds. </p><p>Minho tries to clench his fist again but the movement left him withering in pain as it caused his nails to bleed even more than before. “Fuck.”</p><p>“Okay! I’m back- is that <em>more</em> blood?!” Jisung almost screeches as he grabs Minho’s hand again, “Sorry, I moved it.”</p><p>Jisung sighs and grabs Minho’s better hand. He guides him to a rolling chair by his studio desk and prompts him to sit on it as he rummages through the kit. </p><p>He pulls out a nail cutter from the kit and Minho’s eyes widen immediately.</p><p>“W-What are you doing?” Minho cautiously asks and watches as Jisung’s calculative gaze lingers on him for a while. </p><p>He raises an eyebrow and carefully grabs Minho’s hand again. </p><p>“What do you mean? I’m removing the broken pieces of your nails,” Minho sighs at that but Jisung continues. “I’ll trim the others as well, your nails are never this long.”</p><p>Minho immediately tries to pull his hand away from Jisung’s grip but it’s suddenly too firm, too knowing. “I’m not blind Hyung.”</p><p>Minho’s eyes widen with fear for a fraction of a second before a more neutral and practised look covers them again. With a vacant and glazed look, he watches as Jisung carefully clips away at his broken nails. </p><p>Watches as he clips away all his insecurities, his fears and anxieties. He watches as Jisung’s gentle fingers and soothing touches take away the one thing that grounds the buzzing in his ears and the weights in his stomach.</p><p>After Jisung’s done with trimming his nails Minho lets out a shaky breath he didn’t even know he was holding in. Jisung spares him a glance before reaching for the vaseline in the kit. </p><p>“There are other ways, Hyung,” Jisung says as he applies a small amount of vaseline around the exposed nail beds. He even blows gently on them to help lessen the pain. </p><p>Minho didn’t say anything he only watched and waited patiently for Jisung to bandage his fingers and skillfully wrap up his wrist with gauze after applying a bruise cream on it.</p><p>“I’m always here to hear you out, hm?” Jisung says with an innocent smile gracing his child-like features which only seemed to emphasize his sincerity even more. </p><p>Minho nodded.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Minho watches the proud smile plastered across his teachers face as he goes through his project.</p><p>“So, perfect. Minho, you really never fail to amaze me.” </p><p>Minho glances around the classroom and watches as a few students whisper and snicker while looking at him. He lets out a short huff as the weights in his stomach get heavier.<br/>
<br/>
He darts his eyes around the floor before blinking rapidly in frustration from not being able to clench his fist like he always. </p><p>“I’m so sure you’ll be able to achieve a perfect score for the upcoming exams!” </p><p>The buzzing increases and he almost wants to scream. His nails are too short and the bandage is limiting his movements to do anything. He grinds his teeth and forces a smile.</p><p>The whispers get louder and he can see a few rolling their eyes.</p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>He goes back to his seat and feels someone tap his back. He looks back and comes face to face with Changbin.</p><p>“Perfect score huh? Good luck.” </p><p>He can’t breathe and his nails are too short. He can’t hear anyone from the way his heart is racing and skipping uncomfortably in his chest. He can’t curl his fingers down. He taps his leg and bites his lip. </p><p>“Minho’s smart, he’ll definitely get it.”</p><p>Close close close close. Why can’t he just close his fucking hand oh god he can’t breathe. He can’t fucking breathe. He gives Changbin and Felix a tight smile but he’s sure it looks painful thankfully Changbin and Felix are too caught up in their next conversation to notice it.  </p><p>He breathes in deeply before grabbing something from his pencil case and before excusing himself to the washroom.  The buzzing and nausea are almost unbearable as he walks slowly to the bathroom. </p><p>At one point, he couldn’t feel a thing. Not even his own body or actions. He felt numb. Too numb. It scared him but it never showed. </p><p>He wasn’t shaking at all as he opened an empty stall and locked it. He starts to disassemble the sharpener he had grabbed from his case. He didn’t feel anything as he popped the screw off and shook the razor onto his palm. </p><p>He didn’t feel anything as he swiped the razor swiftly across his forearm. He watched as beads of blood slowly formed across his cuts. He stares at it before pinching the skin around it to help more blood flow out. </p><p>He lets out a shaky breath as a wave of dizziness washed over his head coldly. He felt content. <em>Grounded</em>. </p><p>He could breathe. </p><p>Until he realized what he had done. </p><p>His nails were too short.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wanna cut my nails.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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